


Dream Lover

by pinkandcurvy



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: AAA girls are the head cheerleaders, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Grease AU, Lesbian AU, Other, Smut, alaska has a crush on sharon but that's background, but mostly alaska, but not exactly ?, cis girl alaska, cis girl courtney, cis girl farrah, cis girl katya, cis girl kim, cis girl naomi, cis girl trixie, cis girl willam, courtney and willam are fucking but nobody talks about it, critique is much appreciated, gender fluid jason, gender fluid pearl, i listened to dream lover while writing this lol, i swear the description sucks ass compared to the actual story, jinkx has a major fuckin crush on ivy but ivy has a bf :-/, maybe ?, naomi probably has a crush on kim but she wont admit it because shes a wuss, oh yeah, please just read my fic im begging you, so like .. trixie's sandy sort of and katya's danny, that's where the title came from, the holy trinity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkandcurvy/pseuds/pinkandcurvy
Summary: a 50's/60's au mainly focusing on trixya :)





	Dream Lover

**Author's Note:**

> patricia is trixie, that's explained in this chapter. it'll be trixie from the end of this chapter on

Patricia bounced anxiously in her tiny heels, her cemented smile melting away at the last flash of the polaroid camera. Her mama had insisted on taking an excessive amount of pictures, for some reason, and Patricia was growing tired of holding the same sweet, unassuming smile that she constantly adopted. Luckily, Dalton had just happened to check his watch, ensuing minor panic in their mama at how late (it wasn’t late at all, actually. They’d still arrive fairly early) they were going to be if they didn’t hurry up and bringing them both to rush to Dalton’s brand new car that he'd been gifted to help him settle from the move. It was a tuff ride, all geeked out in the best hubcaps and newest radio features - or, at least, that’s what Patricia had heard Dalton say. She knew about as much about cars as she did about science, which was next to nothing.

“Oh my gosh, D. Thank you so much,” Patricia let out a breathy laugh as Dalton pulled them out of the parking lot, “I think my face was starting to go numb. How much longer do you think she would’ve made us stand there? Hours? Days? The end of the school year?” Shrieking playfully when Dalton reached over to slug her, laughing along with her, Patricia pulled the collar up on her dress. She was still getting used to being able to wear whatever clothes she pleased during day hours, having been so acclimatized to her old uniform. Sure, Patricia had gotten to wear whatever dresses and skirts she’d pleased during the summer months when she was on vacation, but it just felt indecent for her to be wearing something so pretty to school. She felt as if she was breaking some sort of secret code with herself that had never been set.

Silence came over the two of them once again and Patricia had to fight the urge to go on a nervous rant about stupid things. What if people didn’t like her dress? What if her makeup smudged too much and nobody told her? What if nobody talked to her? What if everybody talked to her? What if she didn’t have anywhere to sit at lunch?  
Fortunately, Patricia didn’t have much more time to think about what could go wrong because Dalton was killing the engine and telling her to get out. Water kicked up around her as her black pumps clacked to the ground quietly, and Patricia had to hold back a shriek - great, she hadn’t even made it inside yet and things were going wrong. "Oh, shoot. Now my dress is all wet. Do you think anybody will notice, D? Do I look trashy?" 

"Oh, hush Pat. Nobody's going to notice a little bit of water on your skirt," Dalton tucked his shirt back into his pants, making sure he looked extra spiffy and Patricia couldn't help but roll her eyes. What a hypocrite. "It wasn't even muddy water. Stop fussing, c'mon."

The two of them weaved through the parking lot, Patricia pinching the elbow of Dalton's shirt between her fingers. She could practically feel heat radiating off of the eyes of those who stared at them as they passed. Self consciously, Patricia tucked a strand of her newly bleached hair behind her ear and ducked her head. If she could avoid eye contact, she would at all costs. A few people honked as the pair passed, the first few scaring Patricia enough to make her yelp and jump.

“Gosh,” Patricia muttered, earning only a grunt in reply. It was clear that they weren't going to be able to blend in as well as Patricia had hoped.

 

\------

Chewing on her lip anxiously, Patricia looked around the nearly abandoned halls. The secretary had taken her sweet time wrapping up a phone call (the most definitely had not sounded like school business), and then some more in scanning through folders for Patricia's and Dalton's schedules. It didn't take long for them to figure out that they had only one class together - history - and thus would have to actually make an effort to meet new people, a concept that Patricia viewed with dread where Dalton nearly leaped in excitement. 

She couldn't blame him, really. He was a jock, he'd quickly climb the rungs in this new setting, and he didn't need his kid sister dragging him down or holding him back. To be fair, though, Patricia was more of a prep than him, which she hoped would give her more cred here than it did at her old school. In Wisconsin, every Susie and Jackie was a cheerleader with blonde hair and blue eyes. Patricia had had to work to be like them back then, bleaching her hair and using paler foundation to blend in with the 'nice little white girls' (as her mother had put it). Of course, Patricia was extremely proud of her Native American roots, but they'd brought her nothing but trouble back in her tiny town, so she'd had to cover it up, and it had quickly become a force of habit. Here, though, Patricia had seen people in all leather smoking outside the building, girls in low cut blouses and high rising jeans, boys with their hair greased back and their faces darkened from the sun. It was nothing like her sheltered town back home.

"Hey, sweetie, you lost?"

Patricia blinked rapidly, coming back to the present. She hadn't even noticed she'd been spacing off. "Huh?" Looking around, she found short girl with cherry lipstick smiling up at her, her blue eyes wide and unassuming. Patricia swallowed heavily - the girl looked as if she'd dumped a load of diamonds on her cheekbones, but it was definitely working for her. "Um, yeah, I guess? It's my-"

"First day? I could tell. I'm Farrah. Is that your schedule?" The girl, Farrah, reached for the paper that Patricia was clutching to like a lifeline which was, in fact, her schedule. "You have English with Harper? Barf. Me too, though," after another moment of Patricia awkwardly bouncing on her heels and Farrah scanning the paper, a quiet gagging noise from Farrah caught the other's attention. Was her list of teachers really that bad? "Your name is Patricia?"

"Uh," Patricia knitted her brows together and laughed quietly. So her name had been disgusting enough to cause a gag? "Yeah, Pat for short," She tugged anxiously at the sleeves of her dress. God, of course something as stupid as her name was what brought her cred down.

Farrah handed Patricia back the paper, shaking her head and smiling kindly. "No, baby. Not here. How about Trisha?" Farrah tilted her head, "No, too sloshy. Um... How do you feel about.. Let's see," grabbing the taller girl's hand, Farrah linked their pinkies and began walking, and Patricia was helpless to protest - this was the first person at a new school who was talking to her. Patricia didn't care if she was being led to the boiler room as long as Farrah didn't leave her alone to navigate the school. "OH! I know!! It's perfect," Farrah halted and laughed a little as Patricia nearly jumped out of her skin at the exclamation. "How about Trixie? Oh my God, It's like, fuckin' perfect!"

Patricia blinked. And then again. "...Trixie?" The name rolled off her tongue awkwardly, but it felt nice. It was different than anything she'd ever been. It sounded flirty and a little risque and everything that Patricia was not. "Trixie," she said again, this time firmer and with a smile. "I like it. Trixie's good."

"Don't you? I'm so god damn brilliant. Oh! Here we are. Fuck, we're late. Do you happen to have a pass? I could forge the-"

Trixie's eyes bulged. She'd never heard so many obscene things at one time. "Forgery?! That's illegal, I don't-" she paused and lowered her voice, "I don't think that's the best idea. Besides, I don't have a pass you could even use," ignoring the roll of her newfound friend's eyes (at least, she hoped Farrah could be considered a friend), Trixie turned the knob on the door, puffing out her chest and bringing a lazy smile to her face. Somehow, her singular interaction with Farrah had given her a small burst of confidence, and there was no way that Trixie was going to let that go to waste. So with her books clutched tightly in one arm and her schedule in the other, Trixie pushed open the door to the classroom.

All eyes were immediately drawn to her.

Trixie gulped.


End file.
